


To Really Look at Potter (A Draco Malfoy Quest)

by Pensievethought



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Comedy, Fluff, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Humor, M/M, Mystery, Romance, Smut, Suspense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-05-29 17:56:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6386479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pensievethought/pseuds/Pensievethought
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the last month or two during the 8th year at Hogwarts, and Draco Malfoy realizes he's never gotten a proper, up-close look at the Gryffindork. He wants to accomplish this before the year is over without anyone knowing. What ridiculous measures will he take to truly take in Wonder Boy's face?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's been too many years since I've written in any sort of story on a fanfiction website (Veritaserum was once my bae [R.I.P.]), and I say: It's been enough! It's time to rejoin the family! To write and update and finish yet another tale, yet another reason why Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy are eternal soulmates. I'm a bit passionate.
> 
> To celebrate my return, I'm going to dedicate a good portion of time to this fic. Feel free to point out mistakes, comment, or whatever! It's just so good to be back. Furthermore, I'll be posting at least once a week, but hopefully twice a week. I'm not yet sure how many chapters this will be, but it shall be very, very good. I have the first few chapters written already. I hope you like! :P

Chapter 1

Draco wanted to look at Potter.

Like, he really wanted to look at Potter. He realized that through all the years at being at Hogwarts, he had never really gotten to look at Potter's face. Not sufficiently, anyway. When the two had had their quarrels, it was all about making sure that he walked away feeling – scratch that, _knowing_ – that he had won, and that poor Potter walked away concerning himself with his heroic image or something else of the sort. And by that time, there was no reason for him to even be near him anymore. Besides, he had far better things he needed to do.

He certainly didn't have time to look at Potter.

But with the end of eighth year drawing near, he realized that he might never see the Gryffindork again, and, well, he just had to see his face more properly, okay? 

He didn't understand why, only that he knew he had to do it in the next month. You know, look at him.

He knew that if he were going to properly look at him, Potter couldn't know he was looking at him. So he had to find ways to look at him – and in places – that he wouldn't. In order to do this properly, he had to figure out the boy's schedule. Which, of course, shouldn't be too difficult – after all, he had stalked the boy before in the past – but seeing as it was after the war and all, he figured it might be difficult, or, at least, different.

Before, he would use his Slytherin skills to watch from the shadows, but that only really allowed him to see what was happening from a distance . . . and that certainly wouldn't do anymore.

Which meant that he would have to find a way to get closer without him noticing. Damn it, this was going to be hard.

His first step would require him to find some sort of way to sneak around better. His first stop? 

Hogsmeade.

The school allowed the students of and over the age of 13 to travel to the small yet charming town. However, seeing that Draco was an 8th year – something which still sounded odd to his ears – he could go basically whenever he wanted. Granted, he would have to wait until he didn't have some assignment, class, or other responsibility which bored Draco to tears. Well, maybe not tears, but something which evoked a very disinterested expression from Draco's smooth and elegant face. 

And so, after his double potions class on Wednesday, which wasn't hardly the same for him anymore after the death of his Godfather, Draco headed towards the outskirts of the school and made his way to the special town. Even though the war was now over, the school still disallowed any of its students from apparating in and out of the castle. Draco preferred this anyway, because it gave him time to think.

Over his years of _obsessing_ over Potter – not that he would ever admit that out loud – he had grown to understand that the boy possesses an invisibility cloak. Even amongst the wealthiest of pureblood families, such a magical cloak was incredibly rare. Even the Malfoys – who were still one of the wealthiest, if not _the_ wealthiest wizarding family – did not possess one. This was because money could not simply buy such a cloak. It had to be made by a cloak master, and even then it was rather difficult to create one. It was a tricky sort of thing, really.

Draco still had contacts, but he would find it difficult to find something like _that_. So he had to think of the next best thing: an invisibility potion. Draco was sure he could _make_ one, but not until he checked out the potions store in Hogsmeade first.

Walking down the cobbled street, Draco took note of the fact that it was rather empty. There were people going down the street and in and out of shops that certainly didn't come from the school, and perhaps one or two students that Draco didn't know too well. After about ten minutes of walking, he turned right to go into Mortkin's Shoppe.

Mortkin's Shoppe was a small shop that one could easily miss if they were either not looking or were walking too quickly. This was because it could be found in an alleyway that existed between two others. This suited Draco just fine, since no one from the main street would be able to look in to see Draco by accident. If people were going to see him, it would be because they themselves were going into the store. Of course, Draco figured that the mere act of walking into such an alleyway – given his past – would probably not be best in terms of proving that he wasn't doing anything suspicious. And while Draco definitely wasn't doing anything illegal . . . let's just say he didn't want anyone else knowing that he was looking for a way to – _ehem_ \- look at Potter more closely.

The tall, narrow door to Mortkin's Shoppe dinged when Draco walked in. Looking up, he noticed a small bell attached to the very top, signifying the arrival of a new customer. Draco continued and started making his way through the narrow aisles which were _filled_ floor-to-ceiling with clear cartridge boxes of varying sizes, and labeled according to ingredient type with fine calligraphy. Draco, being the potions expert he was, could easily buy all the ingredients he needed, but he first wanted to see if they had any already completed potions in stock. Going to the back of the store, he greeted the man in the back. 

“Hello,” Draco said smoothly, “Sir, where is your completed stock?”

Turning around from the stack behind the counter, to which he was attending, the man's eyes widened somewhat before answering.

“Mr. Malfoy!” The man said. “Hello, welcome. What sort of potion do you need? Pain-killing potion, perhaps? Calming drought? Dreamless sleep?”

The man was, perhaps, as far as Draco could tell, around 50 years old. He was balding, and the rest of his thin, light brown hair ringed messily around his head, reminding Draco a little of a stereotypical monk. He also sported muggle-looking glasses, a button-up, long-sleeved, and brown plaid shirt, tweed pants, a dark belt, and durable looking light brown shoes. If it weren't for the fact that the man was cataloging the items behind the counter with his wand, and for the fact that the Slytherin noticed his cloak draped over a nearby tall-chair, Draco would have assumed the man to be a muggle. Or a squib, which, as far as Draco was concerned, was the exact same thing.

Indeed, it was the first time Draco had actually _been_ into the shop after walking by it so many times during his other years at Hogwarts. Before, he would just owl his mother for extra potion ingredients she would purchase from Mr. Mulpepper's Apothecary in Knockturn alley, but purchasing anything from that alley these days would arouse too much suspicion. He had his family's reputation to think of, and his own. Again, he couldn't be caught doing something like this. All seriousness aside, _no one_ could know his true purpose. He wasn't going to hurt the stupid git, surely. He just wanted look at him.

“I just wanted to browse.” Draco replied.

The man pointed. “Turn right into that room. You should be able to find what you need in there.”

Draco looked to where the man – presumably Mr. Mortkin – was pointing, and indeed saw the entrance to another room, also filled floor-to-ceiling, but with various potions instead.

“Thank you.” said Draco, and he walked through the door which connected the two rooms of the store. Once Draco felt that the man was again buried in his cataloging, Draco whispered a spell.

“Ostendi Potio Invisibilis”

Peering around the room, it took Draco a second before he saw the faint red glow coming from behind the last shelf. Draco strode to the last aisle to find the potion. It was on Draco's left side, on the most-bottom and right corner on the shelf. The tiny, round vial existed innocently there, glowing red until Draco bent down to pick it up. The clear, yet slightly frosted glass was cool to the touch. Inside there was a dark grey liquid. When Draco swiveled it slightly in his hand, he noticed that the substance seemed to be rather thick. Like honey, or even molasses. Peering down back on the bottom shelf from whence it came, Draco noticed that it was the last – or perhaps only – vial. He thought of its implications. 

From Draco's experience, when potion shops had little in the way of a particular kind of brew, it usually meant that not many were made, or that many people had purchased them. Either way, Draco wasn't sure if he _wanted_ to count on just one potion to get the job done. Looking at the bottom of the vial, he read that this invisibility potion would last him 30 minutes. While this was surely better than staying invisible for long periods of time – Draco had seen this sort of potion brewed on more than one occasion – that wasn't Draco's plan. Draco wanted to make sure that he could sneak a peak, and then carry on with his day. Looking at the bottom of the front label, he saw that the potion cost 200 galleons. Easily affordable for him, he thought. But it gave him an idea of the quality of the potion. It would do the job, he thought.

He decided that he would plan and test out this potion, and if he had found out something peculiar in the process of spying on the Gryffindork, then he would take the time to buy more potions or brew his own. He wouldn't admit to his . . . level of curiosity just yet by buying a gang of potions before he knew anything.

Not wanting to look like he went into the store exclusively for this potion even though that was exactly what he was doing, on the way out of the completed potion room, he grabbed a flask of dittany and a common jar of headache relief potion. He doubted that by purchasing these items he would deflect any attention brought to the fact that he was buying an invisibility potion, but he wished it to. 

“Just these potions for today, Mr. Malfoy?” Mr. Mortkins inquired, looking at the vials that Draco at placed gently on the counter.

“Yes,” Draco answered simply. Draco took his dark emerald satin coin bag out of his inner-robe pocket and gave the man the necessary coinage. After nodding in appreciation, Mr. Mortkins gave Draco a paper bag for him to put all of his new belongings in. Refusing, Draco pointed to his robe pockets, and placed the potions in there instead. They were charmed so that whichever contents inside of them would neither be visibly seen to outsiders, nor would they crush under extreme weight or force. 

“Thank you sir.” Draco managed to finish, before he heard the front door bell ringing, signaling that a new customer had walked into the store. Slytherin instincts kicking in, Draco swished to the side of the store, hiding behind one of the ingredient shelves, and peered in quietly between the cracks to get a glimpse of the newcomer. Mr. Mortkins was oblivious to Draco's behavior entirely. 

Who had walked in the door to Mortkin's Shoppe, not 10 minutes after Draco, was none other than Bloody Harry Fucking Potter.

Oh, the timing of it all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad my first chapter was reviewed well! I'm so excited to post again. I'm working on the chapters after this one. 
> 
> ALSO, have I mentioned I'm planning on fully animating this fanfiction into video format on my Youtube channel? It'll be in this style (of my Rapunzel video): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wp1DyDXo5yY
> 
> I've been drawing a lot of Draco, let's say that. But ANYWAY, let's continue. POTTAH CAME IN THE POTIONS STORE, what?????

Chapter 2

Now that he was properly hiding behind the shelf, Draco could see Potter with slightly more ease than he did previously. The first thought that went into his head, of course, was 

_Oh shit! It’s Potter!_

The second thought he had was

_What is Potter doing here in a potion’s shoppe? Isn’t he shite at potions? Doesn’t he have other things to do that are usually associated with golden hero boys?_

The third thought that came into his mind was

 _Wouldn’t this be an opportune time for me to take a look at him?_

Certainly, he had just bought his invisibility potion. He thought, though, that that seemed like a rather impulsive thing to do. As long as he stood still, he should be able to view him from here . . . 

Potter strode straight to the back of the room where Mortkin’s desk was. The man had, yet again, turned his back away from the door.

“Er, excuse me?” Potter said with slight polite hesitation. “Sir?” In between the slits of the shelves, Draco could see that the man turned to meet his new customer.

“Oh, hello! Mr. Potter!” The man exclaimed, clearly happy to see him. _Of course,_ Draco thought with slight bitterness, rolling his eyes where he stood. “It’s good to see you again! What can I get for you today?”

“It’s good to see you too sir. And, er, just two jars of crushed doxy egg. Oh, and one essence of knotgrass root, please.” 

“Memorize your list today, Mr. Potter?” The man turned around to look at his stores, continuing to talk to Potter while he got the ingredients. “Usually you come in with quite the sheet of parchment.” Mr. Mortkin began to head into the back room.

“Oh yes, er, I’m actually doing something of my own today. Not the usual . . . group brewing.”

The man disappeared into the back room as Potter spoke, coming out after just several seconds.

“Here they are.” Mr. Mortkin said, who was holding two jars in one arm, and one tiny flask in his other hand. “Would there be anything else that you would like today?”

Suddenly, the shock that Potter seemed to be actually buying potion supplies for something that only he seemed to know about came over Draco. In the moment of realization, the blonde almost knocked into the shelf, gasping quietly in his movement to stop the near-accident. The gasp, however, managed to make both Mr Mortkin and Potter turn towards his direction. Thankfully, Draco ducked quickly enough before Potter realized whom the sound came from. Potter turned back towards Mr Mortkin.

“No, thank you. That will be all for today. See you next week.” 

Draco was still crouched in his aisle, so the only indication he received of Potter’s movements was the sound and visual of Potter’s shoes walking across the floor, only inches away from Draco’s face. For a moment, Draco was horrified at the thought that he might _actually_ be caught. It was only too late before he realized that he should have taken the invisibility potion and followed the Gryffindork: when the thought to drink the vial came up over him, the door of the shoppe dinged again, and by the time Draco stood up, Potter was gone.

Draco let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, and cleaned off his trousers had they become _soiled_ in any manner from being so close to the ground before finding his moment to leave the store as well. Walking in the opposite direction that Potter seemed to go in, Draco began to curse himself.

 _Goddamn,_ he thought. There was the moment where he could have taken the opportunity to follow the golden bastard, and here he was all caught up in the fact that Potter was buying potion ingredients. But not just _any_ potion ingredients. Potion ingredients for _himself_ that, as far as Draco could tell from what his instinct told him, were those that no one else knew about, minus Mr. Mortkin, and well, of course, Draco. Not that Draco was planning to let him know of that.

What the hell was Potter going to do with doxy egg powder and knotgrass root essence? The Slytherin couldn’t think of any potions with those two ingredients on the top of his head. Exhaling a quick puff of frustration, Draco put his hands in his coat. 

It was probably a good thing that he didn’t end up drinking the potion just yet. He would need it when Potter decided to suspiciously go somewhere alone, especially when he insisted that Weasley and Granger stay behind or some nonsense. (Draco was already picturing the scenario in his head) As if nothing bad has ever happened to the man.

Feeling simultaneously defeated, and yet invigorated by the idea that he was on to something, Draco walked back towards the castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW it's a little short, but hang with me! It's gunna be GOOD.
> 
> P.S. Please let me know if y'all find any typos. I'll quickly obliviate and transfigure them if they're there.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being slow with posting this next chapter! I've been retardedly busy. 
> 
> RECAP: Draco decides that he needs to look at Potter since there's only a couple of more months left of Eighth year. He gets an invisibility potion and sees POTTER at the same potions ingredients shoppe for some strange reason. We go on from there. :P
> 
> Also, I forgot to post a disclaimer in the first chapter, which will be in effect of all the chapters of this story, as well as all other stories I write on here. DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of this, sadly.

Chapter 3

When Draco reached the Slytherin dungeons after finding Potter in Mortkin’s Shoppe in Hogsmeade of all places, he really didn’t want to have to talk to _anybody_. Thankfully, when Draco reached the dorms, it just happened to be at a time that ensured that no one would be in the common room. He wasn’t the type to underestimate timely graces like that, so he sprinted to his private rooms as soon as possible . . . with a Slytherin sense of propriety, of course.

When it came time to rebuild the school, many people thought that it would have had made the most sense the put all of the 8th years together into one new dorm entirely, but when many 8th year Slytherin students began to receive death threat after death threat in owl posts before the term began, Headmistress McGonagall decided it would be best to transfigure new private quarters in the house dormitories into which the student had already been assigned. It seemed to be a very easy solution. Of course, some people seemed to be especially keen on the idea that doing so only perpetuated house rivalry, which was certainly a case. To Draco, especially now, it didn’t matter much more anyway. 

Closing the heavy mahogany doors behind him, Draco strolled to his bed and took off his satchel. Then, he neatly folded his outside cloak before – rather ungracefully for a Malfoy – plopped onto his bed.

More like, it didn’t matter much anyway when you only have a month or two to do something as bloody _stupid_ as _whatever_ you’re doing now. _Trying to catch a view of Potter? What do you think you’ll even accomplish during this time?_

It wasn’t unusual for Draco to berate himself like this, not that he let anyone know. Sighing slightly, and letting his composure leave him – he was alone anyway – he reached over and pulled out the potions he had just bought out of his robes, and placed them slightly behind him on his right side. He grabbed the one of his interest and twirled it slowly in his hand.

_The Invisibility Potion._

The potion would only work once he’d established Potter’s schedule, at least _somewhat._

_Gods, I’m starting to sound like a bloody stalker psychopath freak, _he thought, resting his head in his other hand.__

____________ 

The next day, the students were beginning to informally file out of the Great Hall and go towards the Quidditch pitch. Today there would be a match with Hufflepuff against Ravenclaw. Draco had intended on making a habit out of keeping the invisibility potion in his pocket at all times in case there came an opportune moment. 

This was such a moment. 

Draco’s plan was to _somehow_ follow Potter to the stands where he would then be able to _hopefully_ satisfy his urge of getting a good look at the Gryffindork. He knew that once the potion had been drunk – and all of it _had_ to be drunk – he would only have approximately 30 minutes to get the job done, as ridiculous as that sounded to Draco’s ears. And because _no one_ could find out about Draco’s whereabouts, he had about half that time to do it. Which meant that, really, he’d have to sneak off without anybody seeing him, drink the potion near the pitch, and then get on to it and out as soon as possible. 

It was sounding like a worse idea by the second. 

Since coming back to Hogwarts for his 8th year, there were only three people that were smart, inquisitive, and goddamn _annoying_ enough to try to get Draco’s attention, and especially when he’d least wanted it. He didn’t want to make any sort of scene this year. His intention was to finish his education _without_ any more scars added to the Malfoy name, and get out so he could work on improving it through other duties which always have bored him to tears merely thinking of them, let alone actually doing them. 

__He made it a point to be amongst the last ones in the Great Hall to leave. This way, he wouldn’t bring attention to the fact that he was purposefully leaving last. He strode carefully and gracefully towards the pitch as everyone else seemed to _slobber_ about. People were chatting and groups, excited to be watching yet another Quidditch match, and especially since these were postwar times._ _

__As Draco continued to walk the halls slightly behind everyone else, he had to quickly make a decision. It was probably worrisome the lack of planning Draco was executing, but what was he supposed to do? He only had a few more months before the end of the school year!_ _

__Right?_ _

__Well, he could go into one of the bathroom stalls and then quickly take the potion. Or. he could chuck the substance down right before he made his way up the Quidditch towers to a seat in the stands._ _

__Before he could come up with another potential option in his head, however, something else happened. Draco turned a corner, and when he did, he happened to notice a spot of black, messy hair in the near distance. He stilled for a moment. Making a decision, he waited briefly to make sure that no one was looking at him before downing the potion right in the middle of the corridor. Instantly, he began to feel the magic of the potion working his way inside of him. His skin burned hot and tingled in an uncomfortable manner: an indication that every pigment in his body began to become clear. In a matter of seconds, Draco felt the effects settle in._ _

__Looking down at his forearms, he saw nothing but the floor. Before exploding into a grin at witnessing the potion’s success, however, Draco noticed one problem._ _

__It wasn’t a small problem either._ _

__In fact, it was a _huge_ problem._ _

__You could still see his mother fuckin’ _goddamn_ clothes!_ _

___Salthazar!_ Draco cursed inwardly. Apparently, the potion only made the drinker invisible, not anything else attached to them. _ _

__Draco had to get out of there, and get out of there fast! It wouldn’t do to see what looked like a ghost wearing Draco’s clothes and bag! _Shit.__ _

__Then, as if to make matters worse, the sound of footsteps approached. It didn’t matter who it was; once they turned the corner, they’d see Draco. Well, you know. What one would see of Draco, minus himself, of course._ _

___Fuck._ _ _

__Draco cursed himself, now wishing that he _had_ actually made sure he was the last one to leave the Great Hall. Or, that he had done more research on the exact invisibility potion he ended up purchasing before foolishly deciding that drinking it in the middle of the school corridor was a _good_ idea. _That’s what you get for buying premade potions,_ he thought._ _

__Draco’s eyes darted about around him, trying to find a door, a statue, or _anything_ which might offer him some kind of escape. Twisting slightly behind him on his left, he spotted a door. It was a classroom door from the looks of it, he thought. Or, at least, it _was_. _ _

__Acting instinctively, Draco sprinted and went inside of the room, closing it just as two Ravenclaw boys entered the hallway. The Slytherin caught his breath on the other side of the chipped door in relief, blinking soon into the darkness. Judging from the dust in the room, it seemed that, yes, this room hadn’t been used as a proper location to teach any young wizard or witch in quite some time. After he sneezed, Draco determined that that _definitely_ was the case._ _

__Casting a quick _lumos_ and _colloportus_ , he saw that the room hadn’t just not been used in quite some time, no one had even come to clean it in some time as well. It was also a rather small room for a classroom, which made Draco briefly wonder why _anyone_ thought it was fit for teaching. Or maybe its size could be attributed to the subject which may or may not have been taught in the room, although figuring out which subject was not up on the top of Draco’s priorities at the moment._ _

__After exhaling and realizing that he had barely escaped being found out, he was brought back to his clothes' level of visibility. He had three options: wait the rest of the 30 minutes in the classroom and ditch the whole idea of trying to look at Potter this afternoon at the pitch, charm his clothes to be invisible or some other thing like it, or . . . go naked. That's right: leave his clothes, bag, and maybe even his _wand_ , and go naked to the Quidditch pitch. Was he even contemplating the third option? Was he _mad?__ _

__Maybe, just maybe._ _

__Did he really want to waste the potion because he couldn’t figure out a way around all of this? Probably not. Racking his brain, he tried to think of something that would best fit his needs. A minute later, he realized he was just wasting time, and upon taking off his bag and putting inside one of the old desks in the corner – after scourgifying it of course – he really couldn’t believe what he was about to do._ _

__Hastily he took off his robes, undid his tie, unbuttoned his shirt, unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, and everything else required to be absolutely naked, cursing himself the entire time. He folded his clothes and put them neatly with his bag as well, hesitating when it came down to his wand. It would be more than asinine to leave his wand, but how could he hide it? Perhaps, with a disillusionment charm, people wouldn’t notice it?_ _

__A strange thought came into Draco’s head. Pulling out the vial that held the invisibility potion out of his robes, he peered inside to see if any remained. Indeed, it seemed as if there were a couple of drops left. He tipped the contents onto his wand, and smirked in satisfaction when he began to see it completely disappear from sight._ _

__Draco locked the desk that held his belongings, and locked the classroom as he left. He must have only had about 25 minutes left now to (practically) sprint down all the rest of the way to the Quidditch pitch and find and look at the Gryffindork. And . . . satisfy whatever it was that made him want to do all of this._ _

__Naked._ _

__What the bloody hell.__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHAT THE BLOODY HELL is Draco THINKING?!? Let me know what you think will happen in the comments, if you'd like. Subscribe for updates!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for being a little slow on the uploading of this chapter, I had just gone to the Wizarding World of Harry Potter for a belated birthday celebration. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! All I can say is, "Poor, poor Draco."

Chapter 4

When Draco stepped out into the outside air, he had to remind himself that no one could see him. The air was cold and made his skin flare out in a series of many goosebumps, the wind hitting him in places that were usually _well covered_ with clothes, prompting him to walk quickly. Cursing himself yet again, Draco pounded his way northwest, past the Owlery and towards the Quidditch pitch. His feet protested the hard rock Draco had been making them run on, and when his right foot landed on something rather sharp, it took all the balance in the world to prevent himself from slipping arse down on the wet grasses as he made his way down the hill. He went as fast as he could, because he didn’t have much time, and because he was _naked_.

Soon enough, Draco was hearing the collective sound of faint cheers and shouts in the distance, alerting him that he was close to the pitch. Making the rest of the way around the hill he was walking along, Draco had been confirmed that yes, the pitch was right there. Before going further, Draco casted a quick _Tempus_ to let him know that he only had about 15 more minutes until the potion wore off.

“Fucking shit fuck,” He exhaled in annoyance, catching his breath for a second or two before sprinting the rest of the distance there. When he was about 10 yards away from the pitch wall, he slowed, recognizing once more that while he certainly couldn’t be seen by anyone, he definitely could be heard if he was not careful enough.

 _Breathe in, breathe out, collect your thoughts,_ Draco told himself so that he could be calm enough to do what he was about to do. After he composed himself as much as he possibly could, considering the state of things, Draco walked towards one of the open archways students walked under to reach the staircases that lead to the stands, and went through it.

Straight ahead the tunnel continued, revealing the grassy field in the center. From where he was, he couldn’t tell in which direction he had to turn in order to reach the section of Gryffindor onlookers. He took a chance and walked to the other end of the tunnel, the angle revealing the top of the stands. As he was peering across the pitch to discern what colors the students at the other side of the pitch were wearing-

_Whoosh!_

A Hufflepuff chaser whizzed by Draco _just_ then, close enough to make every easily movable portion of him be effected by the wind that was created, but not close enough to be horribly knocked down by the guy. Which meant, well, his hair - and, well, his _other hair_ \- was violently moved by it. And he almost fell backwards on his arse at his sheer shock. 

_Danger, danger. Move out of the premises,_ he thought, hurrying back to the stairs. What he had determined, thankfully, was that the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor students were at the other end. _Of course, because_ that _would make things easier,_ Draco huffed.

Draco turned left and quickly made his way through the stands, only having to dodge one confused-looking Susan Bones. She shifted her eyes suspiciously for a moment, and then went back to licking her large, rainbow lollipop like a stupid child. 

Finally, Draco reached the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw end of the stands.

 _Tempus_ , Draco casted, telling him that he had about 10 more minutes before he needed to sprint back to the old classroom and change into his clothes again. More aware than ever of the fact that he was now surrounded by many people, and more than that – that he was _naked_ , Draco inched along as he made his way up the stairs, stopping when he reached the doorways which emptied out onto the stands. From the platform, he looked right to view a sea of navy and black: people who were cheering for their house team. He looked left and saw a similar view, but which was instead filled with a mass of crimson and gold. It was clear that it was a tight match so far and everyone was riled up.

Draco couldn’t care less whether Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff won, though, because now his eyes searched the Gryffindor crowd looking for just one face: the reason he was doing all of these shenanigans. The reason he was invisible, and naked: a thought which sounded truly odd to Draco as it went in and out of his mind in an sheer moment.

It didn’t take long for him to find what he was looking for. His eyes scanned across row by row, instantly discarding those in his mind who did not fit the description. And then, at the end of the fourth row : red, shoulder-length hair, wavy, brown hair, and then . . .

There he was. Potter. Potter, who was smiling and cheering with the rest of them. His eyes creased brightly with abundant joy as he grinned and laughed, clearly having a great time. Even from here, Draco could tell that there was a lightness to him that hadn’t been there during the war.

 _No, this isn’t good enough. Not_ nearly _good enough_. He needed to be closer, _much_ closer. At this distance, he wouldn’t be able to do whatever he would be doing by being able to examine Potter closely. Perhaps, if he went down the stairs and could find a way to get to the other side? That way, he’d be able to be just close enough to get this over with. 

Way too impulsively than he has ever wished to be in his lifetime, Draco quickly went down the stairs, holding his breath as if that would make time go slower. After he went down a flight, he raced in the direction of the next staircase, and all of a sudden he was aware that he was underneath Potter and his friends briefly before he reached the stairs, eyes fleeting above in that direction a couple of times, trying to make out any sort of detail through the slits of medium brown wood. He strained his ear to hear as he began to race up the stairs, but found the attempt futile: the only sounds which existed were those of shouts and other sounds which made Draco roll his eyes in disgust.

Horrifically, Draco was too inside of his thoughts and practically bumped into the Weaselette, who, of course, had managed to block the eastern entryway to the Gryffindor stands: the exact place Draco was hoping to hover at in order to look at Potter’s _goddamned face!_

Draco’s furiousness didn’t overshadow the fact, though, that he almost blew his cover, holding back the sharp inhale of shock and near terror which would have certainly given him away, and halting his momentum just a few inches away from her back. And to think he could have had his naked body against that . . . he didn’t even want to think about it. 

He took a couple of steps rearwards until he was flush against the corner of the staircase wall behind him, where he knew he couldn’t stay for long, but he was at least away from the danger for _now_. Draco took a breather, knowing now that he only had a couple of minutes before the potion wore off . . .

Despite the fact that Draco had barely escaped from the Weaselette, she must have _sensed_ something, because not a second later, her head turned to the right, and she looked behind her, _straight_ in the direction where Draco was standing, but without any sort of recognition in her eyes. Unfortunately, she must have sensed something more, because she lowered her right hand from where it was resting on the doorframe and completely turned, taking a step forward towards him! He stiffened, furrowed his eyebrows, and warily watched her, holding his breath.

From where he was standing, Draco could see not just the Weaselette, but some of the Gryffindor crowd as well, including what would be great view of Potter and his nerd friends, if only he weren’t blocked at the moment. However, as things were going, he’d have to leave, fast. But, he still had a moment or two, and he wasn’t going to waste it by rushing out now.

Her foot must have slipped a little bit, though, because all of a sudden the Weaselette was looking down on the floor, and her eyes widened in shock.

“Blood . . . there’s _blood!”_ She exclaimed, and sure enough, when Draco looked, he could confirm that, yes, there was blood. Blood from his fucking feet, apparently, which had to have been caused by the mix of hard rock and wood which he had violently exposed his poor feet to in the last almost 30 minutes, and a path of it lead which _exactly_ to where Draco stood.

There was a split second that which Draco hoped he would be able to at least escape before garnering any more attention, but ostensibly, even that was a far-stretched whim, because as soon as she exclaimed it, Potter, who was closest to the Weaselette, began to look at her. And then he began to look at what she was looking at, his expression turning from that of joy to worry in a matter of seconds. Of course, only Draco could hope for something as simple as the loud sounds emanating from the Quidditch match being able to cover her exclamation in this somewhat muffled staircase landing, but no, it didn’t. Potter began to stand up, walking towards the doorway . . .

It was then that he became very well aware of the fact that this whole attempt to look at Potter’s face had been ruined, and so he dashed down the stairs, figuring without a doubt that there was a small trail of blood behind him, revealing his path for anyone who thought to follow it. He went as quickly as he could, estimating that the Gryffindorks might be right on his tail, noting to himself that as soon as he could, he would spell his _damn_ feet to stop bleeding. The shocked look of the Weaselette’s face burned into his mind as he ran and exited the pitch, sprinting towards the castle, and he welcomes the feeling of the wet grass on the feet. His arse was freezing and he was in the middle of the empty, grassy field. 

Obviously this is when the potion began to wear off: right when he was in plain sight of anybody and everybody who looked. Draco looked at his hands as he ran, seeing that they’ve begun to materialize in front of him. They’re not reappearing as fast as they disappeared when he first took the potion, but it’s enough to make him look like a ghost, and it’s certainly enough for him to begin to panic.

Looking around, Draco saw that he wasn’t too far from the Gatekeeper oaf’s shack. He turned to run towards the forest, towards any sort of cover. Naturally, this was by no means something which Draco would describe as ideal, but if he were being honest with himself, the ideal was unreachable as soon as the invisibility potion didn’t work out as planned to begin with. 

It seemed that just as he went behind the first big tree in the forest, the rest of whatever part of Draco that was still invisible was no longer, now finding himself to be extremely _visibly_ naked, in the dark forest, and with no clear way to get back to his clothes and his belongings.

He was utterly fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehehehehehehe :P
> 
> What happens now? Draco's in the forest and all . . . I guess you will all just have to wait and see!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco barely escaped everyone founding him out and seeing him naked, running into the forest for cover when he completely became visible again. He's safe for now . . . or is he? :P

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me a bit longer to come up with this chapter, but I really liked the way it turned out. (Plus, it's the longest chapter so far!) I'm looking forward to all of ya'll's responses! As usual, feel free to tell me if there are any spelling or grammatical errors.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of this. Sadly.

Chapter 5

There was no other way of putting it: Draco’s current situation was pretty damn shitty. For one, he was currently in the outskirts of the dark forest, hiding behind a large maple tree, naked, and way too far away from the place where he had stashed his belongings. In addition, he almost got caught by the Weaselette, and, by extension, Potter, all thanks to his ill planning.

He could have done a lot of things differently. He could have - Merlin doesn’t know - _waited_ to take the invisibility potion when he was _just_ outside of the Quidditch pitch, instead of hastily drinking it in the _middle_ of a corridor, where he had then found out that the bloody potion only worked on his body, and _not_ his clothes. Had he done this, his feet probably wouldn’t have bled from having to go to the pitch _naked_ with a speed that indicated the lack of time he had to accomplish this stupid looking-at-Potter thing. He didn’t know why, but his common sense was greatly lacking as of late. In short, he had utterly fucked himself, and now he was paying the consequences. All he could now hope for was that no one had seen a manifesting, naked, and scared shitless Draco Malfoy sprinting across the campus fields as if he had ten hippogriffs chasing him for the kill.

The only good thing going for him at the moment was that he still had his wand. But still, he had no way of getting back to his belongings at the moment. At least, he couldn’t without, _ehem_ , well, letting everyone in on the fact that Draco had a certain birthmark on his right arse cheek. Absolutely not. That would just simply _not_ do.

Draco kept wracking his brain for anything that would land on the right side of the equation in which the left side would be called “Getting back to the castle without flashing everyone and people asking questions and many other possibly horrendous things”.

From where he stood, all Draco saw were numerous students joyously walking from the pitch, and in a way which somehow told him that Ravenclaw was the houseteam which had won. Again, Draco couldn’t care less about that. Thankfully, the students were at a good distance from where Draco was, but this still didn’t prevent him from recoiling farther into the forest so that there would be no chance he could be seen. He went further past a few more rows of trees, hiding behind a bush before turning around and again viewing what he could of the campus from where he was. Having beautiful hair was a plus in most situations, but when it came time to be discreet, it didn’t usually work out very well.  
It was only then that Draco had thought to check his feet, making sure that they weren’t bleeding any longer. There were a few minor cuts, which looked to be closed, but Draco decided to heal the cuts anyway.

Deciding that even the most discreet forms of magic were too risky at this point, Draco determined that it would probably be best to wait it out. Making sure to stay close to the bushes, Draco leaned on the nearest tree. It was at this precise moment, of course, that his complete sense of peace had been entirely shattered and broken.

“Hello Draco” cooed a soft, whimsical-sounding voice. Draco shrieked in a manner that no Malfoy should, spinning around ungracefully to uncover the source of the atrocity. Not a foot away from Draco was Luna Lovegood, who apparently thought it was normal to sneak up on naked people in the forest. Draco stumbled voluntarily into the bush, violently uttering some combination of _fuckshitfuckfuckshitfuck_ as he attempted to conceal himself. Once he was satisfied that he was as covered as he was going to be, he straightened up in his knelt position and glared at her in a very condescending, Malfoy-like manner. As if what just happened _didn’t_ just happen, and he was making fun of her in class, or whatever.

“What are _you_ doing here, _Lovegood_?” Draco sneered, his right hand trying to gather some more brush in front of him in a subconscious effort to hide further, even though the damage had already been done. “And _where_ did you even come from?” He added what he thought was in a menacing tone, his eyes narrowing.

Luna seemed to be completely unaware of the havoc she just caused, her expression unfazed and blissful. “I didn’t mean to startle you Draco,” She said, unmoving from where she stood. “I was just over there among the brush picking wildflowers for the vegetable lambs. The trees they’re born from have no more vegetation around them, so I’ve been feeding them so they don’t starve and die. Quite sweet creatures, really.” She ended blissfully, looking blankly in the distance for a moment.

Draco just kept glaring at her, not believing what he was hearing. 

“I was just feeding Roxie when I heard some sounds coming from the north, so I looked up and saw you coming through those lines of trees over there,” she pointed in the direction Draco just came from, and his eyes followed her finger in that direction for a second before glaring back at her face. “You seemed quite troubled.”

Draco quickly took in her appearance. She was wearing a mid calf-length, pastel-colored, floral peasant dress, loose lavender cloth pants, and white high-top sneakers with pink laces. Her hair, which was even longer than Draco had ever remembered it being, all gathered behind her, draping her shoulders only slightly. Her hands, which were clasped together, held several sprigs of wildflowers and grasses. And . . . some sort of herb?

“You . . . weren’t at the Quidditch pitch?” Draco questioned suspiciously, hoping the answer would be no. 

“Oh, no! The nargles told me we would win, so I didn’t feel the need to go. Besides, I prefer spending most of my afternoons in the forest.”

 _Nargles?!? What the bloody fuck??_ “I . . . see.”

“Anyway, I’m going to take these vox strands to the greenhouses. Neville and I are working on a collection for our final herbology project. Can you believe that our time at Hogwarts is almost up?”

“Yes . . . I’m aware.” Draco drawled leeringly, and Luna smiled dreamily. It was almost as if she thought they were having a _normal_ conversation.

Before she left, she said, “If you’re going to try to get back to your dorms without anyone noticing, just follow the dust whelps. They usually come up from about the wheezle trees over there in the west, and float through the school at night. Most people don’t see them, and their magic dust properties should hide you. They should come by soon.” She pointed in different directions as she spoke, completely incognizant of the expression on Draco’s face, which was uncharacteristically revealing his shock. 

“Goodbye Draco.” Luna cooed, smiling and eyes glinting as she turned away and skipped towards the castle, her hair bouncing as she went.

 _What in the bloody fuck just happened?_ Draco didn’t even know.

It wasn’t everyday that someone caught you naked in the forest, and especially by someone who didn’t even seem fazed by it. In addition, it wasn’t everyday that someone who you never even bothered to talk to called you by your first name. And . . . she offered help? Draco supposed that’s what she might have done . . . but only in a way someone as loony as Loony Lovegood could. Strangely enough, something told Draco she wouldn’t tell anyone. He’d been so dumbstruck by the entire thing, that he hadn’t even thought to ask her not to.

And he could only hope. Cause Salthazar, shit, if she told anyone . . .

If the bint really wanted to help, she should have offered to get his things for him, Draco thought unfairly and bitterly. Now, he was just stuck in the forest, with _maybe_ a way to get back undetected. He wasn’t even sure if dust whelps even existed. For all that Draco knew, she might have been upholding a façade of looniness as a way to actually purposely fuck everyone over. Maybe her intentions were to reveal Draco and completely shame him.

His gut told him no, however, but it was still much easier to think that someone was out to get you than think that they might actually _care_.

No, that wouldn’t do.

_________ 

As the next hour or two unfolded, Draco’s body became increasingly cold as late afternoon turned into sunset, any sort of warmth the day had going with it. His entire skin was now covered in goosebumps, but all he could do was wait for nightfall as he sat in the middle of these bushes, his arse made of ice (although he was very much aware of the leaves trying to harshly pry their way in) and fingers numb. He shivered; it didn’t seem like his warming charms were doing much, so after a while he just let his body succumb to the cold. It was technically spring, but nature was telling him that they thought it would be a great idea that it stay in winter for a bit longer. At least it wasn’t snowing, but fuck, it was cold.

Draco watched through the leaves in front of his face the yellow light disappearing beyond the horizon. He didn’t dare move from his spot, and after Lovegood left, no one else had found him. 

His plan was to wait until it was dark and past curfew, at which point he would then sneak into the castle, and hopefully then no one would notice him. A part of his brain wondered if he’d be seeing the dust whelps, but he squashed that thought, because certainly Lovegood couldn’t be actually correct in seeing invisible creatures?

The last direct form of sunlight vanished, and Draco exhaled sharply. He bent his legs and hugged them, coiling into a ball to gain any sort of warmth.

For only a moment longer, Draco sat and shivered on the forest floor, surrounded by those bushes. But then, out of nowhere, something shifted. Draco was suddenly not as cold as he once was. It was still freezing, but somehow he was now warm enough to be able to breathe somewhat normally, and stand.

And standing sounded like such a stupid idea, because although it was now much later than before, and getting caught by students in the very least was not as probable, it still seemed much too risky. But stand he did, and calmly. He peered deep into the forest for something that he didn’t even realize he wanted to look for. But this happened almost involuntarily, and out of nowhere. It wasn’t a form of the Imperious by any strand of the imagination: it was more of an energy, an aura, and an essence which made him turn north, and which called out to him. More warmth consumed Draco, and if anyone were to look through the blond’s eyes at that moment, they would almost swear that everything had an orange tint to it. Whether or not it was created in the mind or actually of this physical realm was irrelevant.

Then, in between the trees, gold dust glittered. It came in hovering, glowing clouds that were reminiscent of a group of fireflies, but were much more fine and full of purpose and direction.

As it got closer, Draco could see there was another visual element to it. From certain angles, he could swear that something else was there. Like flat sheets of water which glistened in the light, entirely concealing something else. And then, for a second, Draco saw all that he needed to see in order to blindly follow the cloud of gold dust: a break in the illusion through which Draco could see tiny, golden whelps. 

Any sense of suspicion left Draco, almost as if it were a spell, or some sort of dust whelp magic, but it didn’t matter. The whelps began their way to the castle, and Draco followed them, and in return, the whelps concealed him.

All Draco could see for the next ten minutes was golden light guiding him through, making him pause and then continue where necessary so that no one saw him. He felt lightened, free, and peaceful during those moments, completely trusting this collective of creatures which must have had some of the best deflective magic Draco had ever seen, and before he knew it, he was on the other side of the old classroom door, the whelps were gone, and all of his regular emotions came rushing back.

For a moment Draco was confused, and then he was horrified – but amazed – that he had blindly and willingly followed such creatures. Even more so, that he wasn’t caught, and there were his belongings!

Draco ecstatically rushed to the corner of the room – hurdling over a couple of tables - where he had stashed his things, and swiftly took them out of the desk before rushing on his clothes quicker than one could say “Is that the Dark Lord skipping and dancing with the gatekeeper oaf on top of the Astronomy Tower?”

Draco basked in the warmth of his clothes, which weren’t actually that warm, but offered heat that was greatly lacking from his body. Because when the whelps had gone, Draco’s coldness came back in full force as well.

Deflective magic and warming charms, then? Maybe?

Breathing out an exhale of pure relief once he was fully clothed, Draco swung his bag over his shoulder and tentatively exited the room, alleviated when he saw that no one was around to see him. He made his way back to the dungeons easily after that, and confirmed to himself upon looking at fellow Slytherins that no one saw him naked. He could only hope that no one in any of the other houses, or Merlin-forbid, the teachers, did.

Well, anyone else other than Luna, he scoffed in mild annoyance, going into his rooms and locking its doors.

He was clothed and much warmer than before, of course, but all the time spent being cold today still left its mark, so he turned on the faucets of his private bathtub. Like a true potions master, he expertly added a concoction of numerous oils and liquid soaps as the water filled up, occupying the room with a pleasant barrage of wonderful scents consisting of lavender, peppermint, and musk. The water was scalding hot and foamy: just how Draco liked it. He disrobed and eased slowly in the bath, each breath coming out of his lips like a million thank yous. He liked his arse, and he hadn’t been happy about any prospects of it falling off.

As he braced his arms on the side of the tub and tilted his head back, mouth open and eyes closed, he promised himself that he wouldn’t do something as stupid as he did everything today for Potter ever again.

But then again, there was always tomorrow.

Not that Draco knew that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MUAHAHAHAHAHAHA damn Luna back at it again with the mystical creatures! What will happen tomorrow? I guess y'all will have to just wait and see!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the huge lag in the uploading! I had a block figuring out the next chapter, but then I was inspired while riding my bike the other day, and thusly quickly wrote the next chapter as soon as I could. I hope you guys enjoy! As usual, let me know if you see any errors.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything. (sobs)

Chapter 6

The next morning after the fiasco that had ensued the day before, which was also known as the day that Draco Malfoy had to run into the forbidden forest naked after almost being caught by the Weaselette just as naked in the Quidditch pitch stands, Draco had to rethink his plans. Clearly, if he were going to look at Potter, and were still going with the invisibility potion route, he would certainly have to get another one. He could always make his own, he thought, and then that way he could eliminate the properties of the first potion which had disallowed his clothes from turning invisible. 

Which meant that he had to do some research. 

Sitting in his bed, Draco reached under his bed to pull out boxes of books. He had two: one that consisted of all of his current school books, and another one he strictly used to store potion books. He lifted both of them onto the dark emerald satin sheets – which, due to lightening charms, was easy to do – and placed them in front of him. Deciding to start simple, he grabbed his advanced potion making book first, and flipped the tome immediately to its index in the back, tracing his forefinger through the “I’s”. There were just two invisibility potions in this book, and when Draco looked at each of the ingredients, the only difference Draco saw was the fact that the first one lasted 30 minutes, and the second lasted 2 hours. Draco felt encouraged, until he read text at the bottom which indicated that, just like the potion Draco had taken, this potion too would not extend to the clothes of the drinker. Unfortunately, Draco didn’t know which ingredient was necessary to make this not happen, so he had to keep looking.

For the next hour, Draco looked through a total of 8 books before he found one with just the potion he needed. Unsurprisingly, getting the necessary ingredients would require him to visit Hogsmeade. After casting a quick _Tempus_ , Draco bolted out of his bed and dressed for class. He had already missed breakfast, and would barely be able to make it down to the forest in time. He would never look like he was rushing, of course - Malfoys simply didn’t do that.

Before too long, he reached the edge of the forest and walked on the path that lead from the gatekeeper oaf’s shack to the teaching grounds. Draco especially despised Care of Magical Creatures. The whole thing was just so . . . plebeian.

Draco joined the rest of the students at the forest clearing, where the class was obviously already commencing. He tried to blend in, but it was clear that everyone knew he was late. Hagrid, who was lecturing, quickly glanced at Draco before looking back to the rest of the students.

“Now everyone, in order ter fully demonstrate the physical properties o’ the strengthening powder a good number o’ yeh have come across in yer potions classes, I’ve come ter introduce to yeh today the terrarium fugite, which is also known as the flyin’ reptile!”

Hagrid side-stepped and revealed what he had been standing in front of: what looked like, to Draco anyway, a tree stump, which spiraled from its roots and reached Hagrid’s knee in height. Then, the half-giant bent over, clasping what appeared to be a handle, and then swinging a glass lid forward. Almost instantaneously, a good dozen black blurred streaks escaped from the hole in the stump, flying and springing up in a flurry towards the sky. 

_Well, that’s smart,_ Draco thought somewhat snidely. _Letting the beasts escape before we get to actually_ look _at them. What an idiot._

But then, as soon as Draco thought those words, multiple _thumpings_ were heard. Above, the lithe terrarium fugites slammed into a magical invisible dome that had apparently been placed so that they wouldn’t escape. They were splayed out, feet and hands spread, looking reminiscent of bats grasping onto multiple tree branches, mixed with the way lizards looked when they were sprawled out on pale and hot desert boulders. From this distance, the creatures looked like black, pitbull-sized wingless dragons, which instead had semi-translucent skin flaps extending from their elbows to the middle of their flanks, as well as flaps which connected their ankles to their inner thighs. They had large, white-blue eyes and dark red, almost black tongues that flitted in and out of their jaws. Like many dragons, these creatures had thin, long, and spiky teeth, but they were different in that they were able to stick on to objects like spiders. They were wild, crazy, but somehow inspiring. 

That didn’t mean that Draco wanted to be any closer to them than he had to be. 

“Professor,” questioned Granger, “Do they glide similarly to flying squirrels?” 

“Right yeh are, Miss Granger!” Hagrid exclaimed happily, reaching into his deep coat pocket to extract a large, white paper bag. It appeared to be crinkled at the top. “Right yeh are. Now, today, we are going ter coax these creatures ter the ground, an’ y’all be sorted inter groups, o’ course. One of yeh will be holding its feet, another will be petting its cheeks, an’ the other will be plucking the oldest o’ their scales. These are the scales that potions masters grind inter the strengthening powder y’all know. They shed them naturally, but by then they’re not as potent.” He explained.

Hagrid opened the paper bag in his hands and started handing out red powder puffs to the first row of students. “Hold them gently folks! We will be usin’ these flowers ter coax the terrarium fugites down. They love ter drink the nectar from these flowers. They’re quite intoxicated by the smell o’ the open flower, to be honest. Very powerful stuff, very powerful.” The half-giant finished handing out the flowers. “Now, break up into groups of three, everyone. Make sure every group has a flower!” 

The next few moments consisted of students cordially getting into groups. Draco waited the entire time, as there was no way he was doing anything with any sort of external jubilance, especially when it came to Care of Magical Creatures and something as budding and annoyingly Gryffindor as going into groups. In return, no one tried to make a group with him either. After a bit, everyone was grouped. Without much observation, Draco could see the gatekeeper oaf near one of the groups in the corner of his peripheral with minor interest, which changed as soon as-

“Mr. Malfoy!” Called out the half-giant, requiring, unfortunately, Draco’s full attention. Hagrid walked a few steps toward him. “These two need you in their group” He said, finishing the request. When Hagrid stepped away and went back towards the stump, Draco was then able to see that the two students in question were Boot . . . and Granger.

“Just my _luck._ ” Draco huffed to himself in annoyance, but it was evidently loud enough for the curly haired girl to hear, since she shifted her weight in mild contempt. She was the one holding the flower, Draco saw, and it became clear to him in that moment, as he was walking towards them, that this was the half-giant’s plan all along, or was at least the outcome of his action. In class, students who were friends amongst each other always stood next to each other, so by requiring each person holding a flower to make new groups with others who did not have one, the professor was thereby, in a way, forcing the students to group with people they wouldn’t normally, whether he was aware of this or not. This discovery flitted through Draco’s mind in about 3 seconds.

Draco stopped about 5 feet away from Granger, whose arms were now crossed. Boot didn’t look to excited to be in Draco’s presence either. _Fine then,_ Draco thought. _I don’t have to be nice to them either._ Not that he was planning on it, regardless.

“Okay, great! Now that all o’ y’all are in groups, it’s time ter coax yer terrarium fugite. Spread out, everyone. Oh, an’ leave yer bags here. This will be quite the active lesson.” This last statement made several students groan, but everyone did what they were told nevertheless. After, Draco, Granger, and Boot put their bags together on the forest floor, and made sure to distance themselves from the other groups.

“You’ll want ter spread evenly apart across this clearing. It’ll be your goal ter try ter stand below one o’ each o’ the critters. That way, when yeh open the flower, it’ll sense the closest flower an’ fly down immediately. If they move, move with ‘em.”

Soon, each group situated itself under a terrarium fugite, which, during this whole time, were still meandering above them on the underside of the magical and invisible dome. They seemed rather still for the moment, but Draco had the feeling this wouldn’t last too long. All of this just seemed like a bad idea to him. But then again, so did every class with the gatekeeper oaf.

“Okay everyone, ready?!” Called out Hagrid, who was in the middle of the clearing. “When I tell yeh ter, open the flower an’ lift it above yeh. The higher, the better. Once yer terrarium fugite smells yer flower, its scales will turn dark crimson. Then, it’ll fly down quickly from where it is. It’ll be up ter one o’ yeh ter grab its feet, an’ another one of yeh ter grab the other person, since the centrifugal force can be quite somethin’. From there, the one with the flower will offer it ter the critter, an’ after it’s snatched it, it should be a lot more docile an’ easy to bring ter the ground. At least, fer the next half hour. The scales should be easy ter pluck with yer fingers. An’ remember, only the darkest ones!” Hagrid finished. 

From listening to the brute, Draco figured that, unfortunately, he would be the one to offer the flower, being the tallest of the group and all. _Great._

“Anyone have questions?” Hagrid called outward, and turned around to make sure he didn’t miss any raised hands. Right before he gave up and continued, though, one demure hand raised, a hand which belonged to one of the people Draco most despised.

“No offense Hagrid, but shouldn’t we have gloves for this sort of thing?” Asked Weaselbee. 

“That’s a good question Ron, good question. From experience, however, the beasts are the easiest ter calm when they feel yer fingers. Otherwise, they treat yeh like a threat. Must think yeh ‘ave scales er somethin’.”

The Weaselbee nodded, but still looked a little ill. _Wow. Something the two of us might agree on._

“Any other questions?” Hagrid was met with silence.

But, after glancing around, it was clear to Draco that practically no one wanted to do this. Except for Granger, he noted, who looked determined instead.

“Great! Now, get the tallest person to hold and open the flower. Try to keep it closed until I say.”

Granger gave Draco the flower, which he received almost vexedly. He made an effort not to look into her eyes longer than he had to.

“Stand in the middle! Alright, now when I get ter three, offer the flower! One, two, three!”

Grimacing, Draco pierced the flower with both of his thumbs, drawing out a soft, crunching sound from the red bud, and pulling it apart cleanly in two pieces as he did so. The sweet fragrance was almost overwhelming to breathe in. 

Hagrid might have said something akin to, “Oh, er, I should ‘ave said that the flower has a potent smell,” which was his reaction to one of the kids fainting. Draco also might have seen Hagrid walk towards the pair, offering to help them, and seen him lift their flower, but he was too busy lifting the opened flower in his own hands. All around them, the terrarium fugites swooped down with madness, each drawn to their specified flowers. When theirs was about ten feet away, Granger jumped up to grab the creature’s feet, and Terry held her as it started whipping around. Draco held out the flower pieces on his palm, and after a few swings, the creature licked it out of his hand, immediately becoming much more docile and sedated. From there, his group was able to guide the creature down to the ground, and from there they were able to carry on their assignment. Boot held its feet and Granger pet the creature’s cheeks while Draco started to pluck out the old scales. Looking around, it seemed that they were one of the quickest groups to get down to what they were supposed to do for the rest of the lesson. Granger’s loving strokes seemed to be quite pleasing the creature, which was practically purring.

“Goddamn it!” Finnigan exclaimed multiple yards away. He was paired with Smith and Pansy, and they were having a more troubled experience. The flower didn’t sedate the animal as quickly as it did for most of the other groups, so they had to wrestle the animal for a bit.

“Don’t scare the poor thing!” Hagrid exclaimed, stoking the cheeks of the terrarium fugite. “Pet its cheeks! That will ‘elp it be calmed!” While the half-giant was quite serious about it, Draco smirked. Forthwith, Draco heard a chuckle to his right. Three yards away, Potter, who was grouped with Abbot and MacDougal, was laughing about his friend’s struggles. He was carrying out the similar task that Draco was, but where Draco was meticulously sitting in a cross-legged fashion, Potter was sitting with his legs extended out, as if he were _relaxed_ or something. His grin was wide and his eyes were creased in his bright expression. Plucking the terrarium fugite’s scales seemed to be as easygoing of an action to him as picking daisies and putting them into a woven basket, Draco noted with a feeling he couldn’t place, but with one he decided to call frustration, or . . . jealousy? The Gryffindork wasn’t looking anywhere near Draco’s direction, but all of a sudden, Draco had to look away as if he’d been caught looking. And if Granger, who had been only a foot or two away from Draco as they worked, noticed this from Draco, she didn’t say a word. But during the rest of the lesson, he did see that, for some reason, she wasn’t looking anywhere near as angrily at him anymore.

When the half hour was up, Hagrid aided the students in easing the sedated creatures back into the stump, which was supposedly their natural habitat. The students turned in their pouches of scales that had their names written on them, and they were released from class. Draco walked over to his bag, which was next to Boot’s and Granger’s, and picked it up. Granger was right behind him, and she picked up her pack, looking at him with mild suspicion mixed with something else. It caught Draco in the moment, who stayed frozen there as other students began to move back and down the path towards the castle. 

“What, Granger?” Draco asked with disdain, which masked the fear he was feeling all of a sudden. _Why is she looking at me like that?_

Potter and the Weasel joined her a moment after he asked this. The two Gryffindork men looked at the interaction between their friend and rival questioningly. It was apparent, now, though, that whatever was truly on her mind wasn’t something she was going to ask him then, which was a, observation strange enough to Draco. Making a decision, she took a breath and said, “Good group work today, Malfoy.” Her hair, like many of the other students in the class, was disheveled from their work. His hair, of course, remained perfect.

Draco, not having anything to say, gave her a short nod. The Weasel’s eyes narrowed, but the three of them left, walking behind Draco where the path was. 

_What the bloody fuck just happened?_ Draco twisted his upper body to peer at his oldest rivals, walking together like they did for the billionth time. He noted, looking around a bit, that they were the last ones to leave. Even the gatekeeper oaf was gone. And then, Potter stopped in his tracks, telling his friends that he left something behind. They nodded to him quickly in understanding before continuing down the path, taking each other’s hand in a couple-like manner that disgusted Draco as they left without him. 

Potter started back, his bag swung over his left shoulder. Draco, on instinct, gracefully sidestepped once until he was behind a tree, the tips of his hands gracing the rugged bark as he watched Potter from a short distance. The raven-haired boy walked quickly past the tree where Draco was hiding, and looked around swiftly as if making sure no one was nearby or following him. He even looked towards the path, making sure that his friends weren’t looking? Draco was instantly intrigued. The boy seemed to have made up his mind, suddenly making his way into the forest that was in a completely different direction than anything he could have possibly left behind. _Lying to your friends, Potter? What are you up to?_

Despite not having any invisibility potion of any kind, no plans or any idea of where he was headed, before he could stop himself, Draco began to follow Potter at a distance as the two of them went into the forbidden forest in a direction Draco had never yet ventured. 

It wasn’t like he had Ancient Runes in 30 minutes, or anything.

Or a discreet, Slytherin reputation to uphold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHERE THE BLOODY HELL IS POTTER GOING?!? I guess y'all will find out next chapter! <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOD! I haven't posted in forever! It's been a sad two months being gone from all this, but life's bullshit held on to me and wouldn't let go! Anyway, I'm back and so happy to be back! Are any of you still here?
> 
> Due to my absence, here's a RECAP of everything that's happened so far:
> 
> 1\. Draco is on a quest to look at Harry Potter's face. It's eighth year and he's done ridiculous things to try to get closer to our Gryffindor just to get a good look at him, and do so while not getting caught by ANYONE.  
> 2\. In the process, he's ended up sneaking around in a potion shoppe peaking through shelves like a complete weirdo, naked in the forbidden forest due to a horrible invisibility potion that wouldn't make his clothes invisible too, only to be helped by Luna Lovegood and creatures that actually exist.  
> 3\. In the last chapter, Draco went to a (Riddikulus) Care of Magical Creatures lesson where Hagrid forced them to tend to crazy wild dragon-like things by taming them with a flower and clipping their dead scales, after which Draco decided to follow Potter into the forbidden forest like an extremely smart person? And here we are!
> 
> I hope y'all enjoy this chapter! I took quite some time on it. There's also some deliciousness at the end. The slash is progressing!

Chapter 7

As Draco continued to follow Potter at a good distance, a couple of things were becoming clear to him. One: there was no way that he would ever make it to Ancient Runes on time, if _all_. Two: it seemed that if Potter too had a class at this hour, he wasn’t going to make it either. Three: if his instinct were correct, wherever they were headed, it was obvious that it was Potter’s secret, and Potter’s secret alone.

There were probably more things than this, but Draco couldn’t think of them right now. 

Similar to the moment not even 24 hours prior where he was being lead back to the castle by dust whelps, Draco was yet again in a situation where he found himself acting on pure instinct, or as if some outside magical entity were forcing him to do it, spelling him with feelings of curiosity and dreamlike wonder in order to mask such a hypothetical mind slavery.

Draco knew that when he started following Potter into the forest he wouldn’t make it to his next class, and not because a lot of time had already passed, but because he knew that, for some reason, where he was following him to would take a lot of their time. The entire time, Draco made sure that there was always the distance of about two trees in between them, avoiding being heard. Not a couple of moments later, Potter was leading them downhill, the light increasingly diminishing, and when Draco cast a wordless _Tempus_ to find out the time, he was surprised to find that it was only 10 minutes after class had finished. If the lighting were any telling sign, it was much after dark, which didn’t make any sense; it wasn’t even anywhere near night time. Even if it felt as if hours had passed, there was no way that all those hours have gone by. But then again, why was it suddenly so _dark?_

It wasn’t as if the trees were any closer together either.

Only just enough light to see the outlines of the shapes in front of Draco now existed. Each step that hadn’t found neither Draco nor Potter stumbling onto the ground or into a tree in one way or another was a miracle. At this moment, Draco instantaneously wondered if Potter too was being affected as he was. After all, it would not be far-reaching whatsoever to say that the Forbidden Forest may have contained something like this. 

And then, not 20 yards away, there was light, which shone through in a rather large pillar perpendicular to the ground, and revealed a small, flowery and mossy meadow clearing and was, at first, quite blinding. It was at this sight that Draco stopped and watched as Potter walked towards it; slowly now as if trying not to disrupt or frighten whatever magic existed here. Draco subconsciously leaned into the nearest tree, his hands brushing lightly against its ragged bark as he continued to watch. 

Potter walked straight into the lit patch of green, red, yellow, and orange. The light hit his form brightly, casting practically none a shadow. He turned around slowly, his eyes digging into the area around him, searching. His eyes flashed in his direction, but only just after the blond fully hid behind the massive bark. When he was sure that Potter was looking in an entirely different direction, Draco slowly edged around the tree just enough so that he could peek, and then retreated a little just in case. He could absolutely _not_ be caught right now.

Something slender, tall, beautiful, and graceful introduced itself into the light, Potter backing slowly as it did. There was a little bit of caution in his movements, but it seemed as though there was absolutely no fear there. 

“Hello Harry,” echoed the voice as time went still. “It is good to see you once more.” 

“It’s . . . it’s good to see you too.” Potter replied. 

The being, as far as Draco could tell at this distance, was a dryad, which Draco knew were nymphs of the forest, notorious for their trickery, of which they would subject to their victims. They could also be the exact opposite, providing rare miracles in times of great need. If Potter was here, he doubted somehow that this individual would be one to expose a series of tricks. 

This dryad was not of the normal variety, though, since she was a horse from the waist down, giving her a centaur-like appearance. The extraordinary, seemingly time-stopping magic that enveloped the forest, however, combined with the appearance of her long elven ears, lavender skin, long, wavy teal hair which covered her breasts, and the soft, atmospheric dance of faerie dragons and fireflies which surrounded her and Potter stopped anyone from thinking that that was all she was. 

“I, er, brought what you asked of me,” said Potter, reaching behind him on his left side and pulling out two jars of doxy eggs and knotgrass root essence out of his jacket pocket, holding it out for her to take. Draco’s eyes widened as his mind flashed back to when he first saw Potter buy the potion ingredients at Mortkin’s earlier that week.

“I thought that you wouldn’t come,” said the dryad, voice sweet and slightly meek, eyeing the items Potter brought for a moment before a nearby faerie dragon took the ingredients from his hand and flew away in the direction the dryad came from.

Potter opened his mouth as if he were about to say something, and then decided against it. He gave her a nod, looking briefly at the ground before looking back up.

“Thank you, Harry Potter.” The dryad welcomed, her expression blissful. She exhaled once more, her face settling into a determined expression before continuing. “Although my elders have told me to wait until the next part to tell you this, my magic tells me that it is now time.” Her fingers swam and undulated in the air, her head nodding in response to something that was nearby, but that which no human could ever see. “You have now passed the first test, Mr. Potter.” She folded her hands in the front of her person, waiting for the raven-haired boy.

_Test?!_ Draco’s inner voice came to him. _What is this dryad playing at?_ Ever so slightly, he leaned closer.

_”Test?”_ Potter too questioned, mirroring Draco’s thoughts. Apparently, these weren’t the words he was expecting from the dryad. His forehead furrowed in mild confusion.

“I apologize for the front that I have had to establish in communicating with you, but I have had no other choice. Each member of our clan has to look out for one another, you see.” There was a pause. 

“Last time, when we met, I wasn’t a hundred percent honest with you. It is true that when the one you call Tom Riddle released the basilisk into your Hogwarts, he too opened chamber ways which have made our migration to the water dryad realm extremely dangerous, if not impossible. After all, it’s fragmented our world and our practices, making it impossible to trade, marry, and many other things that are inherent to our culture.”

“But I was not honest regarding my noesis: I did know then that you were the one to defeat the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets, something which my clan was quite relieved to hear. I have also heard something about you that I very much hope to be true. I wouldn’t ask this unless our situation were not as dire as it is, but because our way of life is incredibly threatened, I must ask you: Is it true that you are a speaker of the snake?”

After Potter got over the initial shock of what was just admitted – his mouth and eyes were wide open – he shook out of it and said, “Yes. Yes I am.” He said, face now in a slight grimace. “It was how I got into the Chamber.”

At this, the dryad looking appreciatively and calculatingly at Potter. “Interesting, Mr. Potter. You have accomplished, and yet you do not boast.”

Potter gave the smallest grin in return. “I just don’t find any reason to.”

Draco scoffed at their interaction. _Please,_ he thought sardonically.

The dryad smiled reciprocally. Then, her face changed as she continued to speak. “None of our clan members dare to go near the Chamber, even though the monster is gone. But we have no more time to wait. Our resources are few now and are numbers low. Mr. Potter, would you please aid us in fixing the chamber ways so that we can use them once more? We will need your gift of the serpent tongue to do so.” Although she possessed the timeless wonder of the dryads, giving her an ethereal presence, her face was apprehensive.

Potter shifted in his footing, as if he were . . . unsure of himself? Draco had to shake that thought out of his head; why would _Saint Potter_ of all people, the one who _vanquished_ The Dark Lord, be _unsure_ of himself? The very idea was _ludicrous_.

“What would I need to do?” Potter resolutely said.

Relief was grandly evident on the dryad’s countenance. “Our people have this scripture in the language of the snake that can only be activated by those who can speak it.” She brought her fingers together in a pinch from which manifested a ball of light, and then a small tome. It was a book with a thick binding, dark and worn with tiny vines growing all over its front. Ancient-looking symbols were found indented into the revealed portions of the cover, pulsing and glowing in blue.

“The correct incantations and the sites where you should speak them are indicated on the maps shown here” The book flipped open to a page about one third through as it floated for Potter to take. “It’s a map of where our chamber ways meet with the sewage system of your Hogwarts. By the end, both chamber ways should be separate once more.” The dryad’s eyes drifted towards the distance, almost in Draco’s direction. Draco gasped quietly, hiding fully behind the tree again, just listening now.

There was a low humming tone for a moment; the sound of a spell going off wordlessly from Potter’s wand. _If he’s not a complete idiot, it’ll be a diagnostic spell making sure he wasn’t receiving an artifact tainted in dark magic._

“Thank you.” Potter said a moment later, and the sound of his fingers grasping the tome reached Draco’s ears. “I will review this text tonight.”

“We will contact you again in 2 days time through the emerald state as we have before. When you are ready, return here to let us know that you will be able to complete the task.” The voice began to become increasingly louder as the dryad moved away from the brunet. “Goodbye for now, Mr. Potter.” 

The dryad was now much closer to Draco. He internally panicked; he couldn’t _simply_ get caught now, especially after successfully eavesdropping on an entire conversation between the Chosen One and a bloody dryad! Draco’s eyes shifted maddeningly in the darkness, looking for _anything_ to hide behind – boulder, shrub, Pansy Parkinson – but came up with nothing. Not wasting any more time, Draco hastily began to climb the tree he was behind, attempting to do so as quietly as possible and cursing himself at winding up again in a situation where he was almost getting caught trying to look at _Potter_ of all people. _Why was he doing this again?_

His one-of-a-kind, form-fitting, vegetan smooth grain shoes in black were probably suffering horribly, much to Draco’s despair. His right leg stepped up to another branch, and he almost yelped in surprise when he missed, swinging dangerously in the dryad’s field of vision, but used his upper-body strength to regain his balance. He somehow managed to just get high enough so that the dryad would not see him when she walked by the tree . . . given that she didn’t look up.

“Our clan gives our thanks.” Draco’s heart beat jumped at the proximity of the voice, breath caught in his chest. His body was awkwardly positioned in the tree, sweat collecting at his hairline, on the top of his shoulders, and at the backs of his knees, and when he tilted his head downwards to look at the ethereal figure below, his face froze in horror as he spotted his wand on the ground, _right_ next to her back hoof. She would _surely_ kick it the next time she moved, and she would look up at Draco and find him out and his secret and his life would _certainly_ be over! All Draco could do was watch helplessly as it occurred.

Draco looked anxiously at her as she waved back at Potter, her form twisting to the right. Grey eyes illuminated softly by nearby faerie dragons and fireflies widened in panic as the dryad turned back and continued, her hoof _indeed_ hooking onto his wand . . . 

A soft breath of relief escaped Draco’s lungs when she simply kept going, hardly noticing that it was a wand and _not_ a twig that she pushed aside with her hoof, glowing creatures of the night following her as her form completely disappeared into the darkness. Soon, Draco should be able to just climb down, retrieve his wand, get the hell out of there and - 

All of a sudden, the forest became lighter and lighter, and within several seconds, Draco could see the forest normally once more. It was almost as if day were returning to the forest now that the dryad was gone. It was a wondrous occurrence that distracted him just long enough before the reality of his new predicament shocked him back to consciousness: if Potter walked by this tree, now with normal lighting touching their surroundings, it was unlikely that he wouldn’t notice him.

_Shite!_ Forget the dryad, if Potter found him now, it would be the end of him.

Just as Draco thought this, Draco heard leaf crunching nearby, a normal walking pace that got louder and louder. Draco peered quickly underneath him once more, looking at his wand so blindingly out in the open, and prayed to Salthazar again that Potter wouldn’t notice. Draco nestled in the tree, crouching where the trunk split into more branches in an attempt to make him more inconspicuous. He held his breath and waited.

Step. Step. Step. Stop.

Potter was surely underneath him now, looking at the wand and picking up the pieces. He didn’t even dare look. But then, as if fate were on his side twice that day, the steps continued and became quiet with their distance. Peeking cautiously around his arm, which was currently squishing his face, Draco looked down, right, then left before determining that he was _actually_ alone. An exhale broke from his body. Thank bloody Merlin! 

Never again would he impulsively follow Potter without having an adequate invisibility potion or something else like it!

Draco climbed tentatively down the tree and worked to loosen his tight form back down to the ground, picking up his wand immediately and casting a disillusionment charm on him before making his way back to the castle, head full of the occurrences of the last - Draco cast a _Tempus_ \- hour?!? 

Harry Potter seemed to have a secret, all surrounding a dryad and odd potion ingredients and a tome and a quest? And he was going to help them with their migration route so they could rekindle with the water dryads? And he was going to use his status as a parselmouth to do so? And what was that magic that surrounded them, making the forest become night? And what the hell was an _emerald state?!_.

Draco was secretly relieved that he now had a legitimate reason to follow Potter, instead of just trying to look at his face? The Gryffindork was keeping all this away from everyone, including Granger and the Weasel, who were supposed to be his best friends. He had to keep finding out his whereabouts, if only for his friends. Surely they would be most grateful when he told them that their Saint Potter was getting involved with dryads, saving him from who knows what.

Oh, who was he kidding? This itch he had to look at the raven-haired boy was becoming increasingly grand, and was only worse now that this mystery was involved. He would do this as long as he could get away with it, which is something he would never even admit to his diary if he had one. No, he told himself. It’s just a surer way of finding a good opportunity to look at him. He would use whatever Potter’s secret entailed to take a good look, and then move right on with his life. 

He had two days before Potter would meet the dryad again. In that time, he had to master the invisibility potion and make sure he kept an eye on Potter so that he wouldn’t leave without him noticing.

He was only trying to get a decent look.

Draco stepped back inside the castle, hallways empty of students since they were all in their classes. But even though he had enough time to make it all the way to the seventh floor for Ancient Runes, it would be the very end of the course, and he had to seriously decompress from escaping the fear and reality that he was almost caught just now. Besides, he and the professor were actually on good terms; Draco figured that if he sent his raven right away from his dorms telling the professor that he was ill and that was why he couldn’t make it to class, he would be able to get all the needed materials within the hour. So that’s what he did.

After his raven left the Slytherin common room, Draco retreated back to his dorms and began running a bath from his private lavatory. Sinking in the bathtub was one of Draco’s most favorite pastimes: it completely soothed him and kept him perfectly hygienic. 

But after he stripped from his clothes, sunk into the scalding hot water and felt the tension give away, heat began to emanate from everywhere on his body, particularly and increasingly from the lower parts of his body and suddenly, relaxing for relaxing sake was the last thing he wanted to do. Reaching down underneath in the hot liquid, Draco grazed his hand over his cock, which surprisingly had become half-hard in the last several minutes. He gasped in slight astonishment at the undeniable development; he hadn’t been able to become very aroused as of late, so the fact that this was happening was quite unwarranted and certainly unexpected as hell.

Not questioning its presence nor his body’s evident need, Draco grasped around his cock and gave it one tentative pull, leaning back as the water rippled from his movement. Eyes fluttering closed, Draco repeated the motion, mouth slowly opening as he jerked himself fully hard. Soon, his cock was at its longest, pink head peeking out into the air, his hand pulling over and over again, naturally becoming slick and leaking out into the water. As his hand increased in its movements, his hair, half wet from the original submersion, flicked over his eyelashes. His cock pulsed in his hand, hardening perpetually. In moments, Draco was bucking into his pliant hand, moaning softly, the sound accompanied only by the sound of water slapping against his hand as he rubbed himself and rubbed himself, back slowly arching. Draco’s body began to tense, balls tightening just before coming all over his hand and into the water, his short shout echoing in the room. After all the hot streams of semen finished coming out of Draco’s barely softening cock, he cleaned himself thoroughly and drained the water by releasing the plug with his foot, resting his hot neck on the cool porcelain rim as the water emptied and left his body. Feeling suddenly heavy, Draco peeled himself from the tub and changed for bed, asleep in minutes from an orgasm stronger than those he’d been experiencing for over a year. He barely gave a second thought to the brief flashes of images that fluttered behind his eyes of dark outlines, unconfident body language, vines and ancient symbols that he’d seen when pleasure overwhelmed him, and ignored them again when they came to him one more as his mind and body slipped into the dark land of dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DRACO JUST HAS NO IDEA! Chocodyles, omg, these chocodiles. OH MY GOD! (I realize I'm really weird, its not anything new).
> 
> I love reviews!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've worked religiously on this chapter to bring it quickly! And, I daresay, I like what happens this installment. ;)
> 
> RECAP: Draco has been trying to look at Potter's face, getting into all sorts of trouble and almost getting caught a bunch of times. He learns that Potter is on some quest with the dryads, and it pushes him to make his own invisibility potions that WON'T suck. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy the chapter! I do love comments, hehe.
> 
> Disclaimer: I sadly own nothing of this.

Chapter 8

Draco sat up in his bed quickly the next morning, face twisting into a silent but seething gasp of pain when the left side of his nape and shoulder and the right side of his lower back constricted in tense patches of fire. Cursing to himself at the apparent poor sleeping position planning, Draco swung, to the best of his abilities, his legs off the side of his bed.

Although today was a Saturday, Draco had many things he had to get done. He had to find the ingredients he needed for his improved invisibility potion, of which he would probably get in Hogsmeade, take the rest of daytime to brew said potion, and finish all of the schoolwork he needed done that weekend. The second day marked by the dryads would be Sunday, and if they reached the Gryffindork and Potter returned to them just as swiftly, Draco wanted to make sure he was ready for it. And because he also had to catch up on work from yesterday’s missed lesson, he probably would not have any free time, maybe not even for eating.

Looking in the potion book once more, Draco wrote down the ingredients on some parchment and head out to Hogsmeade, taking the long, icy path to the village, shoes easily crunching the thin sheets into the early spring earth. The earlier Draco got to the village, the better; today would find not just the irregular visits from students his age – an already low number – but also any above thirteen who too decided to leave campus.

Draco arrived at the Mortkin’s Shoppe the same time as it’s owner.

“Why hello, Mr. Malfoy!” the man all but exclaimed, making Draco wince. “It is good to see you again so soon. Returning to look at more invisibility potions? I’ve heard-“

“ _Don’t_ shout my business outside in broad daylight!” Draco sneered, leaning in somewhat vehemently. Mr. Mortkin, whose eyes widened automatically, was effectively frightened. “I mean, please. It’s too early in the morning.” He reduced, pulling in his anger a bit, glancing to the side and placing his hands in his coat. He couldn’t go around spouting insults like he did _before_ everything had changed. Plus, if he were going to continue trading at this location, he might as well have a good relationship with the man. “I apologize.” He huffed, shifting his weight onto the other leg.

“It’s no matter,” Mr. Mortkin said, turning towards the door, fumbling with the shop key as he placed it onto the wood. Like a magical puzzle piece, this flat object activated runes on the door, triggering its opening. “I do understand how you would be cautious of your business, Mr. Malfoy.” He opened the door and walked in. Draco followed closely behind. “I acted haphazardly.” The shoppe became lighter as Mr. Mortkin waved his wand about and walked through the store. Once the man got behind his counter, he spun on his heel and faced Draco, hands folded upon the counter top. “What materials are you interested in acquiring today, Mr. Malfoy?” He gestured quickly to the space around them, returning his hands to the folded position once finished, but not before glinting around the room for a quick moment. 

Draco didn’t miss a beat. He reached his right hand into his inside coat pocket to pull out the list, and, thinking quickly, magically jotted a couple more ingredients at the end of it that had nothing to do with the invisibility potion. He then proceeded to give Mr. Mortkin the parchment. The man leaned close over it, examining the list like a scribe peering over ancient symbolic texts.  
“I have almost all the ingredients you are seeking.” The shopkeeper said, face still inches away from the parchment. “But,” he continued, “I do not have any stores of dunesberry until Tuesday.” He stood back up, flicked his wand, and continued speaking as vials and jars of difference substances floated towards them from varying locations of the store, some pushing themselves out of partially open and also once completely closed drawers.

“But, if you are keen on obtaining dunesberry, it wouldn’t be too difficult for you . . . o-or a house elf, of course, to find.”

All sixteen ingredients perfectly lined themselves in between the only two occupants in the room, glistening in their different sizes and shapes under the candlelight.

Draco sighed in annoyance. He already had a billion things on his list to accomplish, and yet here he was, probably going to actually do whatever he was about to find out right now. He really couldn’t afford not being able to buy all the ingredients he needed for his bloody potion. But the important thing would be getting it done on time. It would be worth to do what he could to make sure that he could, certainly?

“How do you get it?” He asked.

The man opposite Draco took in a big inhale, “It grows in bunches – everywhere – in the forest. It likes to live right amongst overgrown tree roots that stick up from the ground on the north side. Its thin and delicate. Bright red too. You can only see them at night, though, and you must go in the first hour that the moonlight becomes visible through the trees. Oh, and contrary to its name, it’s a flower, not a berry.”

Draco wasn’t sure he liked what he was hearing. Actually, that was a lie. He _definitely_ knew he didn’t like what the man implicated. Having to harvest the ingredient was bad enough. But having to wait until dark to retrieve it would require him to stay up all night. Draco didn’t like compromising his beauty sleep.

“Are there any other potion shoppes nearby who might carry it?” Draco asked, seeking another option.

There was a short pause.

“Yes. Dufftown should have an apothecary with supplies and the like.” He asserted.

The blond almost smiled, ready to go to the nearby town for supplies before he thought about it. The time that it would take to walk all the way down to the apparition point and then search for the store he needed to come across would be at least an hour or two more than doing the dirty work himself, literally.

Oh, why did the shoppe have to be out of one of the ingredients he most absolutely needed? Luck definitely seemed to be with him as of late: faulty potions, almost getting caught several times in the process of trying to look at Potter’s face. Actually _getting_ caught, and by none other than Luna Lovegood, while he was _naked_ in the very same location to which he was to go tonight! The whole thing was ridiculous. 

But, as much as Draco would never willingly admit, the whole thing did have its plusses. For instance, maybe he could have a relatively normal day, then, catching up on schoolwork and maybe _actually_ eating. And, surely he could use the daytime to sleep some. And then, when the time came, he could _ease_ into the whole walking-out-of-the-castle-in-the-middle-of-the-night-to-gather-some-flowers-for-an-invisibility-potion thing. And, forthwith, working on the _darned_ thing all night. He supposed it would have to do, he thought somewhat haughtily.

The decision was made.

“Thank you sir,” Draco nodded, and then paid the man and left.

\--------------------

Once Draco returned from Hogsmeade to the school grounds, he put what he just bought safely in his private quarters, and then made his way up to the Great Hall for breakfast. Some of the students were already there, but not too many since it was still a relatively early Saturday morning. Draco took a seat, alone, and began to eat. Sweetness joyously ruptured in Draco’s mouth as raspberries, granola and oatmeal were consumed. Orange juice, ever refreshing and energizing washed down the food rather marvelously. It gave him just what he needed to start his workload. Draco had to learn, memorize, and perfect a total of 30 new runes, each one excruciatingly more complex and more similar than the last. Then, he had to pick 3 of them and construct a 36 inch paper on their properties and uses.

Noon found the blond standing at his desk, leaning over with his weight on his wrists, grey eyes boring into rune after rune as they glowed up at him from the page. His shirt was slightly ruffled as a result, strands of blond hair wisping at the front. Although the aches which have inflicted pain upon his body since morning only worsened, he wouldn’t be bothered with them at the present moment because of the middle rune on the page, at which he’d been gazing at for 5 minutes straight now.

He felt like he had seen it before, the experience giving him a low and murky feeling in his gut. His fingers twitched and accidentally knocked his wand onto the ground, and when he turned against the protests of his aching body to pick it up, he found himself transported to when he was looking down at his wand yesterday, helplessly high in the tree. He thought about everything else that happened, and all the words that he overheard and that the second day indicated by the dryads was tomorrow.

But then, he realized the flaw in his thinking process.

 _We will contact you again in 2 days time through the emerald state as we have before. When you are ready, return here to let us know that you will be able to complete the task._

Draco felt stupid. The dryads would contact Potter in 2 days time, but it would be up to him to go to them. The Slytherin’s mind flooded with questions, questions he felt almost compulsive to have answered. He needed to do some research.

He needed to go to the library.

His essay could wait.

\--------------------

When Draco entered the huge library, his mind was still on the observation he made; recently, the castle had been continuously empty whenever he moved from one place to another. Soon, he took a sharp left and descended deep into the isles of books, fingers getting cold. Having visited the library frequently in the past, it didn’t take long for him to reach the section he was going for.

Runes.

Draco maneuvered his way through the rune section until he could slow down enough to search the titles. He exhaled quietly through his nose, raising a finger to ghost the letters closely. The distance of his private quarters to the library was a long walk that always got his heart rate up, but under the surface. _Ancient Past Runes, Dark Arts Runes and Where to Find Them, Dangerous Rune Banishing_ and two more titles all went under Draco’s fingers before they stopped at _Dryad Runes: 1000 Activation Spells and Transformative Magic_ , a thick tome at the near end of the isle. Draco grabbed that and a few more books on dryad magic to look at more closely in the room. Thinking impulsively, he bent down and also grabbed an extremely thin hardback book in the next row which referred to Parseltongue symbols. But when he raised his head and consequently peered through the gap in the bookshelf, Draco instantly became acquainted with the sight of Weasley and Granger sitting at a nearby table. 

“He’s late again.” Granger exhaled, frustration in her tone. “He told us he’d be here on time today.”

Draco shifted slightly so that the books were now covering half his face, his features in shadow.

“Who’s late?” Weasley lifted his head from whatever he must have been scribbling on. Granger, probably doing actual work, lifted her head over the books which surrounded her and eyed at the Weasel in annoyance, something she seemed to do quite often.

“Harry!” she said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh.” Weasley said dumbly. “Well, it’s Harry. He’s always been the type to go on his own somewhere.”

“Yes, well, it’s our last year, Ronald. With the war over and all, he shouldn’t have many reasons to try to go off disappearing.”

“Who shouldn’t have many reasons to try to go off disappearing?” The voice appeared from just around the bookshelf on the other side of the table from which Draco stood. Draco’s eyes followed the question and saw Potter, who had just walked in. The Gryffindork walked to the table, glinting at his friends. Draco wouldn’t help but gaze, now closer than ever before to the raven-haired boy’s face. But the boy was facing him now, and it was only a matter of time before he looked up and saw him . . .

. . . but he dared to watch just a little more, retreating further into the shadows so that he could continue peering above the tops of the books. He held his breath.

“Oh Harry!” Granger exclaimed, turning around in her seat. “We were just . . . talking about you.”

“I was just going for a –“

“Walk.” Granger and Weasley said together, finishing Potter’s sentence. He considered them for a moment, any feelings of anger fading away and leaving him grinning. He swung his bag and sat down amongst his friends.  
Draco made himself look away, suddenly feeling conflicted without reason. He was wasting time; he needed to get back to his dorms to finish working. He did not want them to see him leaving the section, however, so he walked to another isle that blocked him from the Golden Trio’s line of sight. He walked to Madam Irma Pince, the librarian, to check out the books.

“I’d like to check these out. Please.” Draco spoke softly, placing the books on the table. He hunched slightly over the desk, trying not to gain anyone’s attention. 

The librarian’s eyes didn’t even move down to look at the books Draco had placed. “You’re two books over the limit.” She stated completely without humor.

 _“Excuse_ me?” Draco asked, voice low but unmistakably irritated.

“I said, Mr. Malfoy, that you are two books over the limit. Library protocol allows only 4 books to be taken out at one time, surely you know that?”

It was clear that she was one of many who didn’t want Draco back at Hogwarts that year. School protocol allowed many more books than that; he was purposefully being discriminated against. He was supposed to just swallow it, but no, he couldn’t, not from Pince.

“School _protocol_ allows _ten_ books to be checked out at a single time.” Draco almost snarled. “And _I_ have practically half _that.”_

“I don’t know _what_ you are talking about.” She snipped in reply. “It has always been that way.” The women’s thin lips were pursed.

Draco reached her eyes in challenge. “If it’s always been that way, then what about that _sign_ over there? Behind you?” From the corner of his vision, he could see several students ogling from their seats. Apparently, both their voices had risen, garnering the attention of outsiders. It was clear she wouldn’t budge without fighting further, which he couldn’t do without making a scene. At this, Draco relented.

 _“Fine.”_ He spat, removing the top two books without knowing which he’d removed. He shoved the ones he was still taking angrily towards the librarian, who promptly smirked in satisfaction and gave Draco his receipt. The Slytherin yanked the small scroll out from the woman’s fingers, hastily grabbing the stack of books and holding them to his chest. He spun away from the desk to exit from the library in wrath, but ended up slamming right into a body, causing two of his books to fall onto the floor. When he stepped back to hex whomever got in his way, he froze when he saw that it was Potter, who seemed to be equally as still.

Granger and Weasley were standing there right behind him, eyeing them, but Draco wasn’t thinking about that. Here Draco was, doing research about runes because he couldn’t stop pondering about the dryads and Potter’s strange quest and secret, which he wouldn’t have known about if he weren’t compelled to look at his face for some unknown reason, except now here he was, about a foot away from him, and he could take his look if he wanted to. They weren’t even fighting, and they were closer than they had been in . . . Draco wasn’t sure.

But he was already taking too long, so he summoned the fallen books wordlessly to his hand, sneering at the boy in front of him. “Move Potter.” He said, shoving his way past him with his free hand, marching out of the library and not stopping until he was back in his dorms. He slammed his door, flung his books down at the carpet, and swung his bag hard down on the mattress, completely irate. He paced the room, fuming, completely unable to calm down. The strange thing was, he wasn’t exactly sure what he was upset about. Of course, he was angered by the complete _unfairness_ of it all, thwarted by the fact that _librarians_ of all people were not giving him any respect. Granted, he understood _why_ they felt this way, but it wasn’t his _fault_. But, of course, no one seemed to understand that. And then, he foolishly _slammed_ into Potter, making matters even worse. It had meant that he, his stupid friends, and other people witnessed what happened between he and Pince. It just . . . it just . . . made him so angry!

Ire completely filling his body, Draco finished the rest of his school work and essay, practically snarling and exhaling sharply the entire time. After he collected all of his work and neatly piled it on the right side of his desk, he turned around and glanced at his room. Sighing, Draco peeled away from the chair and dragged himself to the bed, pushing off his schoolbag before completely collapsing onto it facedown. He puffed into the sheets, hot hair hitting his face and blowing his hair upwards as a result. Somehow, the motion allowed Draco to breathe more slowly and relax despite his neck, which was still flaring in pain. He flipped onto his back and looked up at the canopy of the bed.

Getting up this morning Draco had planned on getting the ingredients he needed without any issue, and then quietly brewing and working all day in peace, but the last several hours only proved to be quite contrary to his wishes. Now, he had the time to take a nap before getting up at moonlight to pick the dunesberry reagent, but after recent events, he wasn’t sure if he should. He decided that he should try to nap regardless, changing into his boxers and slipping into his bed before setting an _uluate_ spell to wake him up in two hours when the sun would have already set.

\--------------------

Draco blinked into the moonlight that was coming in through his window, flickering in even from the water’s depths. It easily pulled him away from sleep, Draco found, as he sat up in bed, turning to gaze out at the aquatic scenery. The anger from hours before was rather diminished, feeling instead a strong attraction to the forest. Even if he decided to not harvest the dunesberry, there was nothing preventing him from taking a nice stroll.

Draco dressed and greeted the night, walking southwest towards the dark woods. Again, the campus seemed empty, even though he knew perfectly well that everyone was simply inside. After glinting back just once, the blond entered the forest and made a lazy path towards the lake, not really meaning to or doing it on purpose. But then, scents of fresh water and sweetness filled Draco’s senses, and he looked up and saw the most beautiful image: a dreamy haze of trees near the water bank glowing blue in the darkness, branches framing the trees but also beds of red, delicate flowers that sprouted right next to the roots, just as Mr. Mortkins said. Drops of red in a cold-temperate oasis of blue.  


Draco kneeled down instinctively to begin harvesting the beautifully pungent flowers and put them into a crystal flask he conjured from a nearby stone. Doing so was amazingly relaxing for the blond, and he found himself able to decompress further, shoulders slumping and face without any well-practiced expressions. There were no guards up; it was only Draco.

A soft breeze blew through Draco’s hair, drawing out a sigh from his lungs. The sound of footsteps breached his ears, though, and he automatically tensed and stopped. _Can’t I ever have some peace?_ Draco looked up at the noise and froze for what was the second time that day. 

A young man came into view, his figure both light and dark. He had black hair and pale skin, and Draco knew exactly who he was. Even if he hadn’t, he would have known the instant he took off his glasses and uncovered his green eyes, which was what he did after taking off his jacket. And taking off his shoes and socks.

And his shirt.

 _Bloody hell, what is Potter doing?_ Draco thought, peering around the bottom of the tree trunk.

Potter’s hands moved over the fastenings of his jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping, pulling his pants down his legs until they pooled at his feet, and stepped out of them. And then, he stood up again, thumbs hooking on the inside of his boxers, and bent down to pull them off.

The flowers and flask in Draco’s hands dropped to the forest floor. 

Potter stood up again, now fully unsheathed. Grey eyes drank in the mesmerizing sight of the form striding completely into the water, diving and swimming into black silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Teeheeheehee oh Draco. He still has no idea.
> 
> (Let me know if you see any typos. I'll quickly fix them. Thank you!)

**Author's Note:**

> What the bloody fuck is Potter doing in a potions shoppe?!? Will Draco get caught? Find out in the next chapter!


End file.
